


Whatcha Gonna Do About It?

by Jean Genie (Su_Abeille)



Category: Actor RPF, Star Trek RPF, The Lord of the Rings RPF
Genre: 12 year old boy level violence, Apparently I ship Karl and Zoe now, Canon typical ridiculousness, Chris Pine being pretty, Ensemble casts acting like a room full of fourth graders, F/M, Idris Elba induced SM, M/M, Multiple insulting of New Zealanders and Scottish men, Pinto, Power Dynamics, Power Play, Star Trek - Freeform, Star Trek Beyond, Wordplay as foreplay, blurring the line between cast and characters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-24
Updated: 2016-08-24
Packaged: 2018-08-10 18:22:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7856167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Su_Abeille/pseuds/Jean%20Genie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Karl invents a game called 'Whatcha Gonna Do About It? ' where you provoke your Star Trek cast mate via sucker punches, food stealing, and ridiculously extensive pranks until they retaliate.  Of course Chris decides to target Zach to try and upset his zen calm.  Set during the filming of STB</p>
            </blockquote>





	Whatcha Gonna Do About It?

**Author's Note:**

> After [my last story](http://archiveofourown.org/works/7808779), I wanted to write something fun and ridiculous about this group of idiots so I came up with this idea, trying to come as close as I could to how they all behave IRL. This all started with thinking about how fucking hot it must have been to watch Idris Elba punch Chris Pine and about how Chris so obviously got off on it, which lead me to think about how much he likes to tease Zach, trying to get him to react, and I put the masochistic dots together. This story also helped me discover that I totally ship Karl and Zoe, in a chivalric, sweet, adoration filled old school romantic way. (I blame [A Match Made In...](http://archiveofourown.org/works/7613821/chapters/17331052) by 1lostone which I highly recommend.)
> 
> I'm [ homicidalbrunette ](http://www.homicidalbrunette.tumblr.com) on tumblr check me out :)
> 
> [Also I wrote a Sebastian Stan/Chris Evans fic where I got a lot of inspiration from Pinto.](http://archiveofourown.org/works/10474293/chapters/23110335)

 

Karl started it. Of course he did.

Karl was responsible for a large portion of the ridiculously juvenile but highly entertaining little games they got into. He was the one who would convince them to play the slap game, who dared them all to see how much Powerade they could drink and to start guzzling JJ’s Diet Coke every time he wasn’t looking. This all ended as disastrously as it was going to, of course, with swollen fingers, Anton upchucking behind his console on the bridge set and JJ catching Chris slamming back his soda. Though to be fair, it wasn’t just Karl coming up with these games. After all it was Chris who convinced everyone to play hide and seek on the sound stage resulting in Simon getting stuck behind a prop boulder and no one finding him for an hour. 

Karl though, with his extensive history in ensemble-casts-on-location-who-end-up-acting-like-idiots-together, who really wanted to one up the now legendary neutron cream prank. Afterwards he would neither confirm nor deny if there had been any premeditation to how he started this, or if it was just his infuriating instinct to do that older brother who enjoys the sight of annoyed little siblings thing. Wherever it came from, he seemingly chose John at random to be the first victim.

They were all hovering around the table of food in the actor’s tent, eating more from boredom than anything else. John had constructed a delicately balanced pyramid of pretzel sticks that Karl had silently watched him painstakingly stack for 20 minutes. Just as John placed the last one, Karl lifted his foot and gave the table under it a solid kick, sending the pretzel sticks everywhere.

“Dude, what the fuck?” John said.

Karl shrugged and responded with what would become the name of this particular game.

“Yeah well, whatcha gonna do about it?”

“Fuck off.” John snorted and refused to take the bait.

The next time Karl upped it, grabbing the iced mocha with extra whipped cream that John had ordered before John could get it. He tipped it up and took three huge gulps of it in front of him. When he put it in John’s hand his wolfish grin was topped with a whipped cream mustache.

“Whatcha going to do about it, buddy?”

“You know what, Karl, you’ve actually done me a favor. I shouldn't have all that sugar.” John smiled serenely up at him, giving his shoulder a couple of very firm slaps.

The third time was on set, while all of them waited for the lighting set up. Karl waited until everyone behind the camera was ready to start shooting before speaking.

“Hey John, you know those chips that you’re obsessed with? The ones your wife mailed to you last week in that lovely care package she put together for you? Yeah, I ate all of them. Delicious, man. I get why you love them so much.”

After witnessing the last two attempts to provoke John, all of them went still at this, waiting to see if this would be the one.

“Ready!” Justin shouted. “Roll camera!”

“Whatcha gonna do about it, John?”

“And ACTION!”

John did the scene so calmly and unfazed that it seems like this wasn’t going to be enough, but as soon as Justin yelled “Cut!” John was up out of his chair, taking two giant strides towards Karl, and in some kind of crazy fast fighting gesture had Karl in a headlock almost instantaneously.

“This is what I’m going to do about it, Karl!” John proceeded to give him a noogie, and they all lost it.

Next time it was Chris who Karl targeted, and being as instantly responsive as he was all it took was Karl punching his fist through the New York Times Chris was reading to make him lose it, tackling Karl and making him land flat on his ass.

Like every other stupid thing that one of them would do it was inevitable that the others would do it too. John flipped over Simon’s perfectly frosted morning danish, then said all Scottish men were skirt wearing albino ginger aliens, then finally started to sing God Save The Queen outside of Simon’s trailer, while they all waited around the corner to see if that would take. Simon’s door flung open and the sight of a red faced, flaming mad Scot rearing towards him made John realize that he had made a horrible mistake. Ending up only having a page of rewrites shoved in his mouth seemed rather lucky in the end.

It was unanimously decided that Anton would not be part of this particular game when Simon flipped the book he was intently studying onto the ground, and Anton had given him a wounded puppy dog face, making Simon feel like a giant asshole.

One morning when they were all in makeup, Zoe called them on how they were purposely avoiding doing anything to her. She demanded to not be treated like some delicate girl.

“Zo, none of us is going to do anything awful to you, no matter what you do.” Karl said, smiling affectionately at her.

Zoe’s eyes narrowed at this, and they knew that they were in trouble. That was her game face, one that they had seen across a poker table right before she took all of their money. She said nothing, rather standing up and turning towards Karl, smiling dangerously down at him.

“Ingrid, I am so sorry about this.” She said to their makeup artist, and then poured her ever present cup of kale and wheatgrass juice into Karl’s lap.

He leapt to his feet, trying to shake some of it off, but he knew that even when he was in costume he was going to smell like, as Simon once described Zoe’s juice ‘a barn in the summer mixed with a day old salad bar.’

“Whatcha gonna do about it?” She sing-songed at Karl.

All of them, including the makeup people, froze, waiting to see if Karl would react. He was still for a moment, looking down at his soaked clothes, then up at Zoe’s smirk, and within the space of a blink, was smiling that adoring smile that he only gave to her.

Though the rest of the cast knew it, they began to suspect that Zoe wasn’t completely aware of the sweet spot Karl had for her, making him the worst person for her to try and provoke a reaction out of. In the following days she proceeded to shove not one but three cupcakes in his face and attempted to bruise his Kiwi pride by only referring to him as an Australian koala fucker and hiring a mariachi band to play Men at Work’s ‘Down Under’ in front of his trailer. When he’d ended up dancing around the band, singing along, the rest of them had joined him much to Zoe’s furious indignation. She decided to resort to some down right cruel tactics, taking the brand new black leather Prada boots that Karl was ridiculously proud of and pouring maple syrup into them.

Karl walked out of his trailer, his bare sticky feet picking up every branch and leaf and a bunch of the plantain chips that had fallen out of Chris’s mouth while they’d been waiting outside for Karl to discover the shoes. Zoe walked up to him with the devil in her eyes, looking down at his feet.

“Looks like you stepped in something.” She clicked her tongue and flicked her eyes back up at him. “How much did you pay for those boots again, Karl?”

“Eleven hundred dollars.”

“Eleven hundred dollars, hm.” She nodded and then took a step closer. “It was me. I did it. I ruined those beautiful shoes. So whatcha gonna do about it, huh, celebrated Australian actress Nicole Kidman?”

“Well darlin', I believe I’m going to go wash my feet.” And again, much to Zoe’s aggravation, Karl smiled indulgently at her, still under the firm belief that everything she did was wonderful.

“God dammit, you vegemite eating, Crocodile Dundee worshiping hunk of a throw away Lord of the Rings character!” She shouted and they all promptly lost it, making Chris laugh so loud that he almost choked on the chips he was still shoveling in his mouth.

She stewed on this for days, the black thunder cloud above her head getting darker and darker, until they all, Karl especially, were starting to fear for their safety. A week later when Zoe walked into the actor’s tent for their first call, her smile was terrifying. She held up an iPhone in a Hello Kitty case.

“Hey how did you get my phone?” Karl asked. Even though the rest of them managed to hide their laughter, Chris’ snort was loud and clear.

“Oh I have my ways.” Zoe purred villainously. “Just needed to use it real quick.”

“Use it? How do you know my passcode?”

“Wasn’t hard to figure out it was your birth year, Karl.” She flipped the phone at him, catching him off guard and making him flail for it.

“What did you-” Now Karl was truly afraid. “What did you do?”

“I called your mom. She’s a lovely women. We had a great chat about what an ‘obstinate little fucker' you are, I believe is how she put it. She also told me something else. Something about you at an eighth grade dance with a faulty zipper asking the prettiest girl in school to dance with your” Zoe crooked her little finger in his face “hanging out.”

There was a moment of stunned silence, then a group inhalation before they all exploded with hysterical laughter. Chris was doubled over his sixth danish of the morning while John tried to not snort his iced mocha out his nose.

“Well that does it, missy.” Karl said, and promptly swooped down to catch Zoe around the waist and toss her up on his shoulder. Zoe shrieked, scrambling to hold on. “It’s okay, darlin', I gotcha. You’re not going anywhere. Nope you’re not going to go anywhere for a while.”

He turned around to look at all of them then, smiling broadly as Zoe beat her fists on his back.

“Put me down, you penis flasher!”

Karl paid her no mind, walking over to craft service table in the corner to casually pick up a danish and eat a third of it in one bite. His arms around the back of her knees kept Zoe from being able to get enough leverage to kick him and her slaps at his shoulders did nothing.

“You guys, come on!” She called out.

“No way, Zo, you asked us to not treat you like a delicate girl, and you’re getting it.” John said, being the only one composed enough to speak.

Karl turned back to them, walking over to the couch looking like King Kong holding Fay Wray captive. He stuck the danish in his mouth, and then, in one swift movement, swung Zoe down as he sat so she was sitting on his lap, holding her firmly to him with his broad forearm.

“Now I want you to sit here and think about what you’ve done, young lady.” Karl reprimanded her.

“Go fuck yourself, you jacked up eyebrow actor.” Zoe huffed, succumbing to her current situation. She pouted for a few more minutes, while Chris was still laughing so hard that he could barely speak.

“Penis flasher,” He managed to squeak out and losing it again.

“Would you like some danish?” Karl said sweetly, offering her the last third of his.

“No I don’t want the danish you’ve slobbered all over.” He shrugged and popped it in his mouth in one bite.

They all insisted on hearing how how his dick ended up through the fly of his jeans to which he responded that he would only tell them if someone brought Zoe a fresh danish. Karl let her slip out her one arm to snatch the danish from John when he offered it to her, and then she took this opportunity to dig her elbow into Karl’s side while glowering at all of them.

Karl told this tale of torturous teenage mortification so perfectly and in a way only he could, somehow making himself into the hero of the story. They all ended up laughing to the point of tears, Chris slapping his leg while John collapsed on his shoulder repeatedly saying “Dude!” Zoe was laughing more than any of them though, tears soaking her cheeks as she bent over Karl’s arm around her waist.

“Oh god, I can’t stop-” She heaved out and Karl pulled her back to his chest.

“Just take a breath, darling.” He said, smiling that smile that was just for her.

“Call time you guys!” The PA said, motioning for them to go.

Though none of them, Zoe included, noticed, a look of disappointment washed over Karl’s face for just a moment at having to let Zoe go. He moved with a gentleness that belied all of his brutishness to steady her as he helped her to her feet, holding his hands on her waist for just a moment longer than he should have. When Zoe looked over her shoulder, his gaze was dropped and a creeping red coming up his cheeks.

In that moment Zoe started to understand something that even Karl hadn't actualized. She reached out and gently laid her hand on the center of his chest to get him to look up at her.

“Éomer was my favorite.” She whispered, smiling at his dumbfounded expression.

The next morning he found a brand new pair of the Prada boots waiting for him on his trailer steps.

 

Of course it was Chris who made the dumbass mistake of trying to bring Idris into the game. Idris had invited them all to come to the beautiful house overlooking the ocean that he was Air BnB’ing for the shoot. He had gotten a wine gift basket that week, and invited them all over to drink it, grinning at the boys and saying that he figured a bunch of white people would enjoy the rosé more than he would. They were almost all the way through the wine when Idris asked them why the makeup trailer smelled like a bog. The group of them dissolved into laughter.

“See, it backfired, Zoe! We’re all suffering now!” Karl said, poking her in the ribs.

“Okay, kids, let me in on the joke.” Idris said.

“It’s called ‘Whatcha gonna do about it?’” Chris said. “You try and piss someone off until they retaliate.”

He then listed all the shit they’d been pulling on one another, as they all giggled at their own ridiculous antics.

“Maybe this game could also be called “A group of adults act like 8 year olds’.” Idris grinned at them.

“Hence why you’ve been spared.” Simon said.

“Hey guys, that’s not fair!” Chris pounded his fist into the couch next to him. “Idris is part of the group! We’re being exclusionary!”

If the very important piece of information about how Idris had only been sipping on a few beers that night and wasn’t wine drunk like all of them were had become known to Chris, he might have waited to try and provoke Idris. Or if he’d been sober enough to remember the fact that despite his gentle nature, Idris was actually a really big dude might have given him some pause. Even if Chris had just remembered that Idris, though a part of their group, didn’t have their tendency towards slap games and soda swiping because he was a grown man who acted his age it would have been smart. Unfortunately Chris had forgotten all of these facts in this wine smeared moment of his life as he tipsily walked over to Idris and proceeded to punch him in the shoulder.

“Whaddya gonna do about it?” He smiled drunkenly at him, not noticing how everyone suddenly went still.

Idris looked down at where Chris had punched him, chuckling quietly to himself.

“Chris,” Zoe said, “I think you need to-”

Chris punched Idris again, harder this time.

“I said, whaddya gonna do about it?”

Idris shook his head, and then stood up to his full height. He loomed over him then, and some part of Chris’ wine sloshed brain cleared for a moment as he realized what he’d started.

“Why don’t you really punch me for real and find out what happens.”

“Chris.” It was Zach’s serious voice, the one that said STOP IT without actually saying it. They had all heard him use it on Chris before, seen it bring Chris out of some candy soaked manic binge of talking fast and repeatedly thumping their backs. This time, unfortunately, it had no effect. Chris pulled back his fist and punched Idris in the sternum.

Idris smiled and raised his big, tattooed hand to cup the side of Chris’ face, looking down at him like he was a sweet dumb dog who was trying to gnaw on his shoe for attention.

“Ahh, Christopher, Christopher, Christopher.” He said. “You wanna try one more time?”

The room was completely silent, all of them feeling dread and giddy anticipation mixing, like seeing someone about to step into a pile of dog shit and not being able to stop them.

Chris, with all his blustery bravado, swung his fist up to hit Idris in the ribs, only to have him easily deflect it. With lightning quick movement, Idris grasped his wrist so firmly that Chris was trapped and then popped up his own fist to connect solidly with Chris’ cheek. That, compared to how much strength Idris had, was like a gentle tap, but it was enough to send Chris to reeling back, holding his hand to the pink welt on his face.

“Such a pretty face.” Idris grinned, saying it with complete sincerity, his gentle nature apparent in his affectionate petting of Chris’ head with his big hand. “That’s a good lad.”

Idris laughed softly as he went to the kitchen, leaving them all to look at each other in bewilderment. Zach went up to Chris, grasping his chin to examine the swelling on his upper cheek.

“You’re going to have a shiner tomorrow for sure, you dipshit.”

Then it was just barely held back laughter, snorts and choked guffaws as they all realized just how adorably and impulsively dumb Chris could be.

“Is it weird that that kinda sorta totally turned me on?” Chris whispered to Zach.

“Uh, no, it’s not.” Zach said. “That was fucking hot.”

Suddenly Chris’ face lit up like a kid who just realized what they wanted for Christmas.

 

They had intentionally left Zach out of this particular game. Though he had chugged Powerade happily with the rest of them, they all knew him well enough to know that he did not respond well to being flustered. Chris had once told him that he was like a swan, preening and shuffling his feathers to make himself seem as regal as possible. When Chris had been tempted in the past to try and upset “Her Majesty,” as he called Zach when he was acting especially haughty, he never went through with it. He knew that there would be an unholy wrath unleashed upon him if he did, they all knew this. But as the incident with Idris amply displayed, Chris rarely thought about obvious truths when he was trying to get something he wanted.

Chris started small by ‘accidentally’ body checking Zach as he walked past him, spinning Zach on his heel.

“Oh sorry there, buddy.” Chris grinned at him. Zach studied Chris’ face, trying to determine whether or not Chris was fucking with him. He cautiously turned away, still not certain of Chris’ motives.

Chris' intent became crystal clear the next day when he stuck out his foot as Zach was walking by, causing Zach to stumble rather ungracefully.

“Christopher, don’t.” There was that voice again, his commanding tone.

Chris sweetly smiled up at him, his sparkly blue eyes making him look completely angelic. Zach’s jaw was set firmly, and he met this innocent look head on, not buying it at all.

“Don’t flash those eyes at me. You do not want to start this.”

“Chris, seriously you do not want to start this.” Zoe said, touching Chris’ arm gently. This was dangerous territory that he was stepping into, they all knew it. Waltzing around it like this was just waiting until you stepped on a landmine.

Despite all of the warnings, Chris stood up so he was nose to nose with Zach.

“Whatcha gonna do about it, Zachary?”

“Oh dear sweet Jesus in heaven.” Simon muttered in fear.

A slow smile crept across Zach’s face, spine chilling in its inherent cunning and then cloaked in Zach’s zen like unruffledness.

“You really can be unbelievably stupid sometimes, Chris.” Karl said as they watched Zach walk out of the room.

“Dude, it’s not going to happen.” John said, grabbing Chris and making him sit back down again. “Zach is unflappable.”

“Until he isn’t and you piss him off enough that he actually does react.” Karl shook his head. “It’s the quiet ones you gotta worry about.”

“Whatever, you guys.” Chris rolled his eyes, slumping back into his chair. “I know exactly what I’m doing.”

Chris’ attempts to provoke escalated every day, starting with him switching Zach’s soy milk for regular milk, replacing the Buddha statue on Zach’s desk with a Jabba the Hut figurine, and slapping Zach’s ass whenever he walked past him. It then heightened to him tightening all the knobs on Zach’s perfectly tuned banjo, using a Sharpie to write CHRIS RULES on Zach’s brand new Comme Des Garçons white button up and then resorting to the old classic of toilet papering Zach’s smart car, writing FOSSIL FUELS RULE in shaving cream over the windshield.

None of these things, however, got any more than a serene smile from Zach, which ended up making Chris angrier and angrier.

“You know, there’s a beautiful poetic irony to you not being able to upset him only ending up upsetting you yourself, Chris.” Simon said as they watched Zach calmly pull the wet toilet paper off his car.

Chris never dealt well with not getting what he wanted. A life lived looking like Paul Newman via the Greek pantheon combined with more book smarts than anyone as pretty as he was expected to possess hadn’t really prepared him for being denied his heart’s desire. They all remembered how they’d dared Chris at an awards show to go and get Angelina Jolie to flirt with him, then had watched as not only this demigod of American hotness but also her demigod of American hotness husband flirted rather unabashedly with Chris.

“Whatever Lola wants, Lola gets.“ He had sang as he swaggered back to their table.

They all started to envy Zach this chance, actually. Being able to deny someone so filled with bravado as Chris was would be heady, like denying a king his crown jewels. The somewhat sadistic undertone of Zach’s reactions slipped out in flashes of white teeth in a devilish smile as he turned away from them.

Chris noticed none of this, becoming petulant and less cunning in his attempts to get the reaction he wanted. He had devolved into licking all of Zach’s gluten free muffins before he could eat them and throwing tiny little rolled up balls of paper at him while Zach read his book and completely ignored him.

“Chris, at this point, if he doesn’t beat the shit out of you, you’re going to have a fucking aneurysm.” Zoe said, desperately trying to convince him to stop. Chris huffed angrily, and then leaned forward to whisper to her.

“Maybe it’s that beating that I’m looking for, Zo.”

“Like we don’t already know that you’re a fucking masochist.” She smiled down at him sweetly. “That’s right, sweetie, we all know why you’ve been teasing and provoking Zach for the last eight years.”

“You do wear very tight pants, Chris.” Karl arched his eyebrow at him. “It becomes pretty obvious.”

“Please stop. It’s bad enough having to deal with all the sexual tension between them without us also talking about Chris pitching a tent in his jeans.” Simon said.

“We’re playing the original slash couple, Simon.” Chris pointed out. “The sexual tension is part of our method acting.“

“Well then resolve the tension and finish this fanfiction already, for Christ’s sake.” Simon begged.

In the end, Chris resorted to a completely bratty move, born out of his petulance at being denied the reaction he so very much wanted. He had snuck into Zach’s trailer after he left for the night and proceeded to jack off, blowing his wad right onto the cover of Zach’s rare, signed, first edition copy of Infinite Jest, something that Chris viewed as the height of Zach’s pretentiousness.

He was just entering his trailer early the next morning, blurry eyed with a venti sized cup of coffee in his hand when he was grabbed by his shirt collar and dragged inside. The coffee spilled down his side when it fell out of his hand and he screamed out like a little girl. The door behind him slammed shut and before Chris could register what was happening, Zach was there, grabbing Chris' wrist and spinning him around to pin it behind his back, completely immobilizing him, and then slamming him into the trailer wall.

“This is what you want, isn’t it?” Zach’s voice was low and menacing, his mouth right next to Chris’ ear, his breath tickling his neck.

Chris could only make unintelligible noises with his cheek smashed against the wall.

“It wasn’t enough to have Idris fucking Elba punch you, was it, you little pain slut.”

“Bet-bet-bet.” Chris managed to say.

“What?” Zach pulled Chris back so he could speak.

“This is better.” Chris looked at Zach over his shoulder, so fucking proud of himself for getting what he wanted, just like he knew he would.

“You motherfucker.”

He reached up and grabbed Chris by the hair, bending him over the arm he still had pinned behind his back, and easily manipulated him into bending over the back of a chair. Zach reached into Chris pants, grasped his raging boner and with a deft, skilled efficiency, jerked Chris off in five strokes. As Chris was groaning out one of the best orgasms of his life, Zach released him, stepping back to watch this beautiful, ridiculous, smart mouthed boy twitch and almost fall over in front of him.

As soon as Chris got some of his sense back, Zach gently pulled him up by his shoulder, turning him around and wiping the come off his hand onto the front of Chris’ Denim and Supply expertly distressed organic cotton t shirt.

“You will buy me another signed first edition of that book, Christopher.” It was Zach's serious commanding voice, rough and intimate.

“I don’t wanna.” Chris said, smiling at Zach. “Whaddya gonna do about it?"


End file.
